Confession
by Dance of the Dead
Summary: Conversational short between Sebastian and a Priestess of the Chantry. One Shot Fiction


"You've not always been in the Chantry though, Sebastian. What were you like before?"

The question itself was innocent enough, but it didn't stop the man's cheeks from flushing brightly at the thought of his past.

"I don't think that it's something I should talk about." He replied the moment he'd gathered his composure, passing down another book from the shelf to the chantry sister who'd spoken her question.

"The past isn't something we should deny ourselves," she returned reaching up to take the book that had been offered in her direction; running a dry cloth over it's cover. "Was it sordid?"

"Louisa!" Sebastian exclaimed to the woman questioning him, unbelieving the Chantry sister for her words. Giving her a sharp, bright cheeked look.

The young woman looked up to the man who was subjecting her to the wide-eyed look of horror and smiled, giving a small shrug. "I'm sorry Sebastian, you're so easy to tease." She reached her hand out for another of the books, going back to work.

Sebastian picked another book from the shelf and handed it to the woman, just in time to hear her ask; "Was it though?" He sighed, placing a hand back on the ladder; looking towards the books as he spoke. "I'm not proud of it."

"We never are," Louisa encouraged, hoping that her brother-in-religion would share his secrets with her.

"My parents sent me to the Chantry to hide away my sins," he started. "I was nothing more than a stain on their lives, and I can't blame them for what they did." As he began speaking, the burden of his words seemed to fade and he passed another book down to Louisa, speaking as they worked.

Louisa carefully took the next book from him, wiping this one the same as she had done the last. Making sure not to rub the old leather binding to roughly.

"I used to spend the hours of the day in the Tavern, and when evening game it was time to make a nuisance of myself at the brothel; feasting on the delightful women until the small hours. Only to repeat myself the next day," he stepped down from the ladder and added. "That shelf's done."

Louisa didn't look to Sebastian as she passed him the book to put back, a fact he noticed. "I've gone to far," he stated.

"No, it's not that at all." Louisa hurriedly replied, picking up the cleaning products and moving over towards the next shelf, patting down her robes to remove some of the dust. "It was a tricky book."

"When I first came to the Chantry, I was resentful towards my parents for forcing me into this life," he continued climbing the next ladder and starting on the next shelf. "I doubted the Makers work, but in time, I came to believe it."

"I'm glad," she smiled up to him taking the next book in both her hands. "I'm glad you're my brother-in-religion, Sebastian." She held the book close to her chest before looking to the cover, a prayer book. Nothing special.

Her smile was returned with one of his own. "Your words mean a great deal to me Louisa, it's good to know I am in the right place."

Louisa laughed softly, "My words mean nothing, Sebastian."

"What do you mean?" He asked looking down to her from his ladder perch.

"It's the Maker that decides where it is right for you to be, not me," she held her hand out for another book, twitching her fingers to hurry him up. Sebastian obliged, passing her another tome from the shelf.

"Careful, this one is heavy."

Louisa nodded and took the book and put it down on one of the study tables. Compared to the other books on the shelves, this one looked ancient and beautiful. Once again Sebastian came down from the ladder, standing next to the priestess.

"What is it?" he questioned.

"The Chant of Light." Louisa replied, her voice hushed.

Tentatively Sebastian reached out to open the old book, the pages felt stiff in his hands as though the book hadn't been used in many years.

"It's beautiful." Sebastian commented looking over the intricately designed pages. They were covered in gilt lettering and golden writing; whoever had copied the book from the Chant, had done so painstakingly. Giving attention to the lettering and accompanying illustrations.

"I was hoping to wait until you'd taken your vows," came a voice from the door, capturing the attention from the two understudies in equal measure.

"Grand Cleric?" Sebastian asked the elder voice as she approached.

"But seeing as you've stumbled across it," Elthina looked to the young royal, "This is my gift to you Sebastian. Every stumble you encounter, any set-back, turn to this book for guidance so that some day, you may guide others to the Makers side."

"Grand Cleric, I can't accept something lik-" Sebastian tried to protest.

"Yes, you can. And you will," Elthina returned, with a slightly firmer tone of voice, reaching out to place a hand on the young mans arm. "I am proud of you Sebastian," she told him before removing her hand, looking to the woman with him and giving a nod. "I shall leave you to your work." With her words she turned her back on the two of them, leaving the room.

Silence dominated the room while Sebastian just stared at the gift, not daring to touch the pages lest they suddenly crumble underneath his touch now it was in his care.

Louisa broke the trance when she passed Sebastian the cloth she had been using. "We're all proud of you Sebastian, but you can clean your own book."

He took the cloth from her, covering the book with it once it ha d been closed. "I should take it somewhere safe," he announced, picking it from the table.

Louisa nodded, taking another cloth from her cleaning pile and going to climb the ladder to fetch some books herself now her helper had been distracted.

Before Sebastian headed out of the door he looked to the woman on the ladder. "Thank you," he told her. "For listening, for not turning your back on me when I mentioned," he couldn't help his cheeks brightening again. "My past."

"You're welcome." Louisa replied, giving a light nod of her head in his direction.

When her Chantry brother had left the room she turned back to the dusty books and confided in their pages. "One day, maybe you'll stay long enough to hear my own confession."


End file.
